


In Plain Sight

by MiraMira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Ministry of Magic, Non-Graphic Violence, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Spies & Secret Agents, Trust, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13676586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: Of course Kingsley Shacklebolt doesn't trust Severus Snape.  But with the Ministry growing less safe, he's beginning to understand him better.





	In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katarina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarina/gifts).



Kingsley stifles a groan as he Apparates to the coordinates Dumbledore provided and gets his first good look at the partner with whom he’s been assigned to rendezvous. He’d been hoping for Tonks or Moody. McGonagall or Lupin would also have done, in a pinch. And Arthur, while far too chatty by half, at least would’ve been pleasant company. Anyone, really, except…

“You’re late,” Severus Snape complains, arms folded.

“Finishing up a bit of paperwork,” Kingsley explains, shaking off a feeling of deja vu from the time he nearly overslept and missed the fourth year Astronomy final. “Couldn’t tell Dawlish I had to leave early on secret Order business, could I?”

“Spare me your excuses.” Snape gestures in the direction of the hovel that represents Fenrir Greyback’s last known location. “Although if you wish to lead the investigation, I defer to your professional expertise.”

Ignoring the sarcastic stress on the last bit, Kingsley shakes his head. “You go on ahead. So I can--” He catches himself before the words _keep an eye on you_ can slip out. “--guard the rear.”

Kingsley knows even the most skilled Legilimens isn’t a true mind-reader, but he swears from the glower he’s currently facing down that Snape’s found a way to push the ability to its limits. Then just as abruptly, the scowl fades, replaced by a surprising calm - or is it resignation? “You don’t trust me.”

Of course Kingsley doesn’t trust Snape. He’s read the man’s file multiple times; even added a few of the entries himself. More importantly, he gets more recent intelligence from the recruits. For the past decade, every last trainee Auror has passed through Snape’s Potions classes, and there isn’t a Muggleborn or member of a “blood traitor” family among them who doesn’t have at least one story: some cutting cruelty or verbal jab just a shade too pointed to dismiss as mere Slytherin pride or perfectionism. That it’s all been an elaborate hedge against the prospect the Dark Lord _might_ one day rise again seems far less probable than the likelihood this is just who Snape is.

But it isn’t Kingsley’s call, and far be it from him to second-guess the man who did see Voldemort’s return coming. “I trust Dumbledore.”

Snape snorts. “A word of advice, Auror. You look to the left when you’re being evasive.”

Before Kingsley can respond, he sweeps off in the direction of the shack without a backward glance.

-

“Need help wrapping things up?” Kingsley asks the senior responding Hit Wizard at the arson scene. Fiendfyre seems to have done for the perpetrators, though a few curious Muggles have still been keeping the squad busy.

To his disappointment, though not his surprise, she just chuckles. “Sorry, Shacklebolt. I’m under orders to have you back in time for your chat with the Minister.”

“You sure?” Kingsley wheedles. “I got top marks in Memory Charms during training. And there might still be some evidence that could use on-site analysis.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, making shooing motions at him. “He did the rounds with our division yesterday, and we all survived. You Aurors should have no trouble. Besides, I think it’s nice he’s taking a personal interest in getting to know all the staff better.”

 _“Nice”_ is somewhere between _“innocent”_ and _“harmless”_ at the bottom of the list of words Kingsley would use to describe this new Ministry initiative, but those are exactly the sort of observations he needs to avoid. “Right, then. I’m off.”

By good fortune, Tonks is just emerging from Madam Bones’s office as he arrives back at MLE. He takes the opportunity to sidle over as she sits down at her desk. “How did it go?” he asks in a low voice.

“Watch yourself,” she murmurs, riffling through a stack of case files without looking up. “I think I handled the questions all right, but he lobbed a couple of nasty Bludgers at me. And don’t count on Madam Bones’s help, either. She’s not happy about all this, but I get the feeling she’d be even less happy if she thought there was anything to it.”

“Noted.” One day, even though he already suspects he’ll regret the answer, he’s going to get around to asking Mad-Eye about the bad blood there.

She tilts her head in the direction of the door. “Anyway, I was told to send you in as soon as you got here, so you’d best get to it.” Her eyes flash Dumbledore-blue for a second. “Good luck.”

“Ah, Shacklebolt!” Fudge greets him as he enters, in that too-bright, consciously convivial tone that always makes Kingsley wonder why those most drawn to politics seem least aware of how real human interactions work. Madam Bones nods a more restrained greeting; true to Tonks’s report, she looks as though she would rather be anywhere else herself. “Sit down, sit down. Something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” says Kingsley, taking a seat as instructed. “I’m sure you’re eager to wrap these interviews up as soon as possible.”

Fudge rubs his hands together in delight. “No beating around the bush with you, eh? Excellent. You’ve been with the department a while now, haven’t you?”

“Going on eighteen years this fall, not counting training.”

“You enjoy your work?”

He knows he should stick with a simple affirmative, but honesty compels him to embellish. “I can’t say every case is enjoyable, but...yes. I take great pride and satisfaction in helping fulfill MLE’s mission.”

Fudge’s eyes gleam, as though he’s caught Kingsley in some sort of rhetorical snare. “How would you describe that mission, in your own words?”

“To protect the wizarding world.”

“And how do you define what constitutes a threat to wizard-kind?” asks Fudge, hunching forward. The false cheer has evaporated, only to be replaced by something far more unpleasant. “Yours? Or your superiors’?”

Kingsley quells the urge to stare anywhere but directly at Fudge. “If I ever take any action not in keeping with MLE’s principles, I expect my superiors to deal with me accordingly.”

Madam Bones’s eyebrow lifts just the tiniest bit, but Fudge leans back with a smile. “That’s what I like to hear. So, about those less enjoyable cases…”

-

“Your interview went well?” Snape asks abruptly, as he walks up to Kingsley after the next Order meeting has drawn to a close.

Kingsley is caught off-guard, though only a little. He told Dumbledore everything right away, of course. And as he is coming to realize, on those rare occasions when Dumbledore shares more of the plan with anyone than required to understand their individual part in it, that information inevitably finds its way to Snape. “It did. I think I must’ve impressed Fudge. He’s been requesting me as part of his security detail more frequently.”

Snape says nothing. Perhaps he considers it beneath him to point out the obvious: access of this sort to Fudge’s inner circle could be a major coup for the Order. Provided, that is, Kingsley can take proper advantage. 

“Any other tells I should watch?” he asks into the silence.

Snape continues observing him silently, expression impassive. His eyes, however, are a study in mingled triumph and fury. _Now you appreciate my help,_ they seem to challenge.

“I’m a Ravenclaw,” Kingsley presses. “I don’t like admitting when I’m wrong. That doesn’t mean I can’t. Especially when there’s something I can learn from it.”

The closest thing to a genuine smile Kingsley has ever seen from Snape breaks across the man's face. “In that case, let’s discuss your stance.”


End file.
